


The Smuggler and The Big Bad

by CookieDoughMe



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Haven (TV)
Genre: Haven - Fandom - Freeform, M/M, Spike and Duke, Troubled Blood, btvs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6860593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/pseuds/CookieDoughMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haven / Buffy crossover. Season 5.2 Duke meets Season 4 Spike, with unforeseen consequences for both of them. Takes place after Haven episode “New World Order “ (Season 5.2, Episode 14), and before Buffy episode “Harsh Light of Day” (Season 4, Episode 3). Major spoilers for Haven, minor spoilers for Buffy. </p><p>Summary: Vampire on the prowl discovers someone with interesting blood and gets a lot more than he bargained for.</p><p>Large chunks of this won’t make much sense unless you’ve watched Haven up to New World Order, but it has no real spoilers for Buffy, and all you really need to know about Spike is that he’s a vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Smuggler and The Big Bad

**Author's Note:**

> Duke is running away from Haven after his Trouble bomb went off and he figured the place would be better off without him. Spike is on his way back to Sunnydale in search of a mythical piece of jewellery supposed to render the wearer invincible.
> 
> [Edited 16/05/2016 to add a sentence near the end]

Duke looked around the room; bed, bathroom, door. It wasn't much but it was all he needed. He'd been hitchhiking for days and it was time to sleep. But late though it was, he knew he wasn't going to be able to do that sober. He had left Haven far behind but nothing was ever that simple. Memories of the people who'd died (or watched loved ones die) because of him were following him wherever he went.

He walked around the corner to the rundown bar he'd passed five minutes before. Sport on the TV, grumpy barman, a lot of people drinking on their own; this place matched his mood perfectly. He perched on a wobbly stool at the bar and ordered whiskey.

 

Spike woke to the sunset. Sunnydale was still a long way away but he was bored of travelling - the Gem of Amara would wait an extra day and he wanted to have some fun. He strolled through town until he came across a lonely looking bar and stepped inside. The place was lonely alright; the kind of place people came to drown their sorrows and forget their lives. Just what he was looking for.

Usually, he liked the chase, the fear, the fight or the panic. But tonight felt like a different kind of night. Tonight he was looking for someone willing to give themselves up. Someone with nothing to lose, someone who could be persuaded or distracted into offering their body up to him willingly.

He scanned the bar. Plenty of people drinking alone, although most of them were men; well, maybe that would be interesting, he thought. He took a few steps into the middle of the room, looking around. But it wasn’t until he had almost got to the bar that he saw him. Slim, dark hair, large whiskey and the smell of the sea on him. But there was something else as well; grief.

Spike smiled quickly to himself; a long way from home and miserable. Perfect.

 

The seat next to him was empty, then it was taken. Duke didn't really notice and certainly didn’t care. But then someone seemed to be talking to him.

“What?“

“That any good?” the guy asked.

Duke looked at him. Deathly pale skin, long leather jacket, bleach blonde hair, oddly curious look on his face. “What do you think?” Duke said, gesturing vaguely around him with his glass before finishing it. The bar was a dive, what did he expect them to stock?

“Seems to be keeping you company well enough,” Spike commented.

Duke just turned back to the barman for another.

“Same here,” said Spike a moment later.

 

“So what sorrows are you drowning? A woman?”

Duke just huffed at him.

“A man?” wondered Spike.

“Yeah cos it's going to be that simple. Love's a bitch.”

“Well, they all stomp on your heart sooner or later, right?”

Duke turned to him, out of patience, “Actually, in my experience lately, they mostly tend to die,” he said. Turning back to his glass, he added under his breath, “And too often it's been because of me.”

Watching him closely, Spike said, “I thought it was grief I smelt on you, but it's guilt then.”

Duke looked at him, “Smelled?” Who was this guy?

“Figuratively.”

“Uh huh.”

“Everyone dies, don't take it to heart. It's what you do in the meantime that counts.”

“Again, if only it were that simple.”

Spike nodded in agreement, “Death isn't always simple, that's true.”

 

They were silent for a while, drinking along with the crowd.

 

“You ever hear of a place called Haven, Maine?”

“No. Should I have?”

“I just figured you might have family there, is all.”

“Oh?” Spike said, amused. “Why’s that?”

Duke didn't seem inclined to answer. “I couldn't help noticing your lack of a reflection,“ he commented, nodding towards the mirror at the back of the bar. It was chipped, tarnished and hadn’t been cleaned in a while, but it held enough of a reflection to show that Spike clearly didn’t.

Spike looked at him carefully, “Good spot. Most people don't notice in a place like this.“

“Most people don't notice what's under their nose their whole life,” said Duke.

“You're an interesting guy, you know that? Let me buy you a drink,” and Spike called to the barman again.

 

Never one to turn down free alcohol, Duke kept drinking as the strange British guy kept buying. He asked Duke the odd question, which he mostly deflected back to the blonde, who spent plenty of time talking about himself. The woman who left him, the woman who tried to kill him, the big plans he's got to show her what he's really made of (it’s not clear which one, but Duke doesn't care).

 

The crowd moved and changed around them. A group of guys came in and made a lot of noise before realising they were in the wrong place and making a big show of leaving. Things quieten down again and then Duke was vaguely aware of raised voices behind him. The bartender in him registered the possibility of a fight, but he didn’t expect it to affect him until it crashed into his back. He was knocked off his stool and punched one guy back out of instinct, while Spike threw a couple of punches at the other until they both left to continue their original dispute outside. It was all over in a flash and then Spike offered him a hand to help him up. Duke grabbed it without thinking, before seeing that the guy (the guy with a Trouble that took his reflection) had blood on him.

 

Duke let go of his hand like it was on fire and pulled back away from him.

“Got a thing for blood have we?” said Spike, watching him carefully.

“I just …”

“Hey, no need to explain it me,” he said, stepping forward and stroking a bloody thumb along Duke's bare wrist.

Duke grabbed his arm back, a look of horror on his face as he looked down at the smear of blood, bright red against his pale skin. Apparently waiting for something to happen, he visibly relaxed when nothing does. He looked back at Spike, “So you're not Troubled then,” he said, sounding surprised.

“Oh hey, I'm all kinds of trouble,” Spike smirked at him, “Any kind you want.”

Duke turns back to the bar to grab his drink, “You never heard of the Troubles though?”

“What's Northern Ireland got to do with anything?”

“What? Um.” Duke struggled to marshall his thoughts into some kind of order. The last few crazy months of Troubles, the last few days with little sleep, and the last few whiskeys were all combining to fuzz his head into somewhere thoughts struggled to surface, “Why don't you have a reflection?”

“Oh. I'm dead.”

“Dead. As in, not alive.“

“Technically, yeah. Look good for it, don't I?“ There was that smirk again. A very particular kind of smirk Duke had sought out on the faces of attractive women plenty of times. Actually it was a little like the way Evi used to look at him. He knew what that smirk meant, he just wasn't sure how to react to it from a guy.

He shook his head, “It must be a Trouble, you just don't know it.”

“Some might call it a curse. I'm a vampire love, died years ago. Here, no heartbeat, see?” and he grabbed Duke by the wrist to pull his hand into his shirt and onto his chest.

“You're cold.”

“Yeah. Dead.”

“I...”

“Hey, everyone dies. It's what you do with it that counts.”

 

Holding Duke's hand over the place his heart used to beat, Spike reached to the small of Duke's back and pulled him slowly closer.

“Hey,”said Duke, pushing back. Though not actually moving away Spike noticed.

“Come on, what’ve you got to lose? We've established women are more trouble than they're worth, plus I'm already dead, so you don't need to worry about that. Win, win.”

“Huh. You'll be telling me you can help me next,“ said Duke bitterly.

“Hell no,“ said Spike with feeling. “I'm just here tonight and then I'm gone. Interested in what you're willing to give, what I can take from that warm, supple body of yours. Nothing more complicated than that,” he said as he tilted his head at him and pushed their bodies closer together again.

“Well,” said Duke after a pause. “That's refreshingly honest.”

“I’ve got nothing to give anyway … unless you want to be like me?”

“Dead? No thanks. I got enough to deal with.“

“You want a distraction for the night then?”

Duke really had no idea how to respond to this and they stood there for a moment, hands on each other, not moving until Duke pushed his fingers against that cold skin, not to push him away, but just to feel ...

“Hey faggots! Get out, we don't need your kind in here, the gay bar’s on the other side of town,” and they were unceremoniously shoved apart by a large and very angry man. Spike snarled at him and he stepped back, enough that they were able to leave, which seemed like the only sensible course of action in the circumstances.

 

Duke was through the door first, shaking his head and turning back towards his room. Spike caught him up in a couple of quick strides. Just about done with the let-them-offer-themselves-up plan he grabbed Duke by the arm and pushed him against the wall.

Cold brick at his back and cold vampire at his front, Duke was fairly effectively held still, but he also didn't try to move. He was done thinking. When Spike kissed him, he kissed back. The cold skin of a stranger, the simplicity of a man gone in the morning and no idea what the Troubles meant to Haven, was so different from any of his recent ended-in-death-and-disaster relationships, that in itself was a turn on.

Spike held Duke’s shoulders against the wall as though he were afraid he would try to leave and Duke responded by grabbing the vampire’s hips towards him, pressing their bodies together.

Thanks to a broken street light, they were just far enough round the corner to be hidden from view unless someone should walk right past them, and Duke wasn't sure he cared in any case. So when Spike let go of his shoulders to pull his sweater off him, he didn't protest. He took the opportunity to pull Spike’s shirt open and wrap his hands around that cold chest to his back, pulling them close together again.

They kissed and they kissed, hands all over each other. It took Duke a little while to realise what else was strange; the vampire didn’t breathe. No breath hot in his ear when they moved, no heart beating in his chest, skin as cold as the air. It didn’t matter.

Spike moved his leg between Duke's and pushed their hips together, feeling the other man's erection through two pairs of jeans. He moved his head back to look at his eyes and grinned. There we go, he thought. You didn’t think you would, did you, but here we are and you’re mine for the taking. Duke was his, his whole body open to him, blood pumping hard through his veins.

Duke saw that smirk again, but now there was a touch of triumph mixed in with the desire.

Spike was tempted to drag him further back into the dark alley and get the rest of his clothes off, see just how far he would go, how much he was willing to let Spike take. But it seemed if they moved, the moment would be gone and Duke would change his mind, which would be a shame. And that strong, fast heartbeat was calling to him.

He pushed Duke’s shoulders into the wall again, pressure against his hips so Duke could hardly move and took a moment to listen to that quick fast breath and the blood rushing through his veins. He ran his tongue up Duke's neck, from collar bone to ear and almost purred as Duke tilted his head away from him, opening his neck up to him like a book. Then the look in the other man's eyes was just delicious as Spike’s face changed and he sunk his teeth into that warm pale skin.

He held Duke still as that strong, quick heartbeat pumped blood into his mouth; and what blood it was. As soon as it touched his tongue he knew it was something special, better almost than the taste of a Slayer. Have to look this Haven place up, he thought, and bit down harder as Duke started to push back against him. There was no way he was letting this one get away.

But then, spots of darkness started crowding the edge of his vision, pushing across his eyes. He just had time to wonder at it and then the alley was gone, Duke was gone. He was gone, running instead through some mysterious woods, chasing someone or being chased by something, pushing through branches, past dead animals and unfamiliar words carved into tree trunks and stones. He had no idea what was going on and it made no sense, but it was still scary as hell. Then it got worse. The woods faded as the darkness came back piece by piece, crowding the trees out completely until all there was, was nothing; just space, a darkness, a black empty void.

He came to as he landed on the ground, the end of his own scream echoing in his ears and Duke leaning awkwardly against the wall, clutching at his neck.

“What the …” began Duke.

“No idea mate, but I ain’t interested,” said Spike quickly and pushed himself up to sprint away, thinking, I need to look this Haven place up so as to make sure I never go anywhere near it.

Duke slid down the wall, grabbing his clothes from the ground to press them against the wound in his neck. “...hell?” he managed, before staggering back to his room.

This was not what he had been expecting; things were supposed to get simpler when he left Haven. If he’d been mugged he would have understood it. The sex part made some sense ... but this? With the blood and the guy’s face and his neck and …. He decided it wasn’t worth thinking about. His neck was cut, but it wasn’t that deep. He checked the door was locked, then collapsed on the bed. He would feel it in the morning, but in the meantime he fell into precisely the kind of long, deep dreamless sleep he had been looking for.


End file.
